


Smoking's the Only Thing that'll Get Me Brave Enough

by StariNights



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, Confessions, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out, Smoking, Weed, enjoy, i looked up if weed was a thing at that time for this., this is as close to smut as ill ever get, written for 4/20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StariNights/pseuds/StariNights
Summary: //“Ya know, you’se got… you’se got some real pretty eyes, Racer” his breath ghosted across the bridge of Race’s nose and he let out a quiet, strangled sound.“Thanks Spotty” he said staring at Spot with eyes blown wide.Spot seemed satisfied as he took the blunt and leaned back to his original place pressed flush against Race’s arm. He grinned lazily and Race felt words tumble out of his mouth before his foggy brain could even comprehend what he was thinking.“You’se real damn beautiful, Spotty”//(aka they get high and Gay)





	Smoking's the Only Thing that'll Get Me Brave Enough

Race is so fucked.

It’s almost three in the morning. He has papes to sell in a few hours, yet here he is on a rooftop in Brooklyn smoking something he nicked from a doctor on the street with the one and only Spot Conlon.

They’d heard stories about some type of cigarette that would make you feel like you’re floating, and he’d been dying to get his hands on a few.

He didn’t want to do it alone, so he asked Spot to join him on the roof. At first, the Brooklyn leader was skeptical. He didn’t want to be put out of commision for a day if he got hungover, after all it’s why he didn’t drink, but, much to Race’s delite, Spot’s curiosity got the better of him. So here they were, smoking something they didn’t quite understand, giggling like school children and sitting too close to be interpreted as completely platonic.

Sounds like a great time, right? Just two pals smoking something that made them feel on top of the world, a grand old time, right?

Wrong. See, Race’s problem was that he couldn’t exactly be called straight, and Spot was most definitely a handsome boy. Not to mention Spot smoked like it was an artform. He hollowed his cheeks when he inhaled and his dark eyes fluttered closed as he exhaled. Their fingers brushed when Spot handed it back and he felt a jolt go up his spine.

Did Race mention he was queer?

He took another drag, basking in the momentary silence. He turned to pass Spot the blunt, only to find the Brooklyn leader was leaning in pupils blown wide and eye drooping, peering into Race’s own blue ones. His breath caught in his throat, and his inebriated brain told him to lean in, close the gap, do what he’d wanted to for years-

But then, Spot was speaking, and the words he slurred out made Race’s heart hammer faster than a kiss ever could.

“Ya know, you’se got… you’se got some real pretty eyes, Racer” his breath ghosted across the bridge of Race’s nose and he let out a quiet, strangled sound.

“Thanks Spotty” he said staring at Spot with eyes blown wide.

Spot seemed satisfied as he took the blunt and leaned back to his original place pressed flush against Race’s arm. He grinned lazily and Race felt words tumble out of his mouth before his foggy brain could even comprehend what he was thinking.

“You’se real damn beautiful, Spotty”

Spot glanced over at him, still grinning lazily. “Yeah? Ya’ know, iIse thinks you’se needs ta’ get ya’ eyes checked. Maybe you needa pair a’ glasses like Specs”

Race scrunched up his nose “oh fuck ya’, I’se got great eyes”

“Yeah, sure you’re eyes are great, but they ain't seein’ right” Spot shrugged, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head back with closed eyes.

“Naw Spotty, I’se serious,” Race didn’t really know why he was arguing with Spot. This would totally out him if he said too much, but in that moment it became incredibly important for Spot to know how beautiful he was.

“Ya’ look so damn handsome all tha’ time. You’se so strong and ya’ eyes make me melt like some dame” he said, glaring at Spot like he personally offended him by disagreeing. Spot rolled his head to the side, cheeks darkening and grin widening.

“Oh really? Go on, I ain’t gonna turn down such high praise”

Race took another drag, he’d be glad to tell Spot exactly why he made him melt. He honestly couldn't remember why he’d been so hesitant in the first place. “Yeah, ya eyes they’s like- like pieces a’ charcoal. They look like fire when ya’ get mad, or passionate, or whateva. Ya’ got these Spot’s- which i guess makes sense, ‘cause ya know, /Spot/- an’ they look like the stars Jack’s always goin’ on about” he rolled his head to look at Spot, surprised to see him way closer then he’d been at the start of this conversation.

“My turn,” he whispered, breath ghosting over Race’s cheek. Which, unfair. Rcae hadn’t even gotton to his jaw line or his muscles, or the way his grins make Race weak in the knees.

He doesn’t get to protest before Spot’s talking again. “I think I told ya’ before, but ya’ eyes are real pretty. They’s like the sky- no, they’s more like the water down by tha docks, but bluer. All shimmery and pretty…” he trailed off for a moment, looking into Race’s eyes like he was trying to see his soul. He didn’t seem to find whatever it was and just rolled his head back to look at the night sky.

“You’se so graceful, all long limbs and skinny body. I rememba when ya’ first came to swim at tha docks an’ ya took off ya shirt. God, i musta looked like a dame with how much I’se blushin’” he grinned, as if remembering something soft and warm “I rememba tha’ first time I saw ya dance. You’se was drunk but somehow ya were so graceful, like it’s all ya been doing since youse was a little, twirlin Kath ‘round like that...”He trailed off again ad Race found himself leaning in. Spot turned to look at him again.

“I rememba’ wantin’ ta be the one dancin’ wit ya’”

They were much closer than Race remembered, and the space getting smaller and smaller until there was none left.

It wasn’t much, just a slow press of the lips. It could hardly even be considered a real kiss, but it made Race’s heart beat faster then he ever thought possible.

Only a few moments later, Spot was pulling back. He looked at Race with dark eyes, and even through his foggy brain, he could tell they both felt this dull sense of anxiety that what they did was wrong, that they would get into trouble.

Race didn’t care.

“Do that again,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

Spot didn’t need to be told twice as he leaned forward again, pressing his lips to Race’s. Spot moved his hand to the back of Race’s neck, twirling a finger into his blonde curls. Then Race tilted his head and time sped up. Its was a flurry of movements. Spots hauling him closer by his waist, flicking his tongue out just to see what the mighty King of Brooklyn might taste like, Spot pulling him onto his lap, them both falling back to where Spot’s back was pressed flat on the cement of the roof and Race’s tongue was pressed to his neck.

Spot made a sound verging on obscene and Race grinned, sucking harder on that spot just below his jaw.

“ _J_ _oder_ , Racer-” he moaned and Race grinned, kissing up until he reached Spot’s mouth again. Spot slipped his hands under Race’s shirt, fingers roaming up and down his back, scratching lightly at the flat plains of his stomach

“Beautiful” he murmured against Race’s lips, palms flat against his chest “so beautiful”

Race grinned as Spot started a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses down Race’s jaw. “Mine,” he murmured as Race panted, “all mine”

Race pull back abruptly, straddling Spots hips. “What?” he asked, suddenly much more sober than a few moments ago. Spot, for his part, looked almost suprised, as if just realizing what he’d said.

“I- Race I don’t mean- I’m mean ya’ don’t gotta-” Race cut him off with a deep kiss.

“Ya’ mean it? Am I?” he asked when he pulled back, just an inch so the question ghosted over Spot’s lips making the all mighty king of Brooklyn shudder.

“Yeah, if ya wanna be” he whispered back. Race grinned.

“Yeah, I do, I want that real bad Spotty, but you’se gotta be mine too” he said, kissing down Spot’s neck and latching onto his collarbone. Spot found it hard to form a coherent answer as he grunted and panted.

“Of- ah, holy shit- a’ course Racer” he managed, nails digging into Race’s back as he continued marking him up all across his collar.

“Good” Race murmured, moving back up to kiss him again.

Spot pulled back, moving one hand from under his shirt to his face, brushing a thumb across his jawline.

“Ya’ know, it’s awful dark. I don’t think you’se should be walkin’ cross the bridge this late” he said, grinning like the cat who got the cream.

“I thought all the beds were full tonight?” he whispered back, only an inch from his face.

“Well, I spose I could give up my bed for a night” he said, as if that wasn’t his plan from the beginning.

“It’s cold enough for two fellas to share a bed, for warmth ya’ know?”

“Racer, I think you’se got a deal”

**Author's Note:**

> wow. that was gay. Happy 4/20 y'all
> 
> anywhosies, you can find me, as always, @allthenewsiesaregay-bitch at tungle dot corn!!!!


End file.
